Private Dancing : Within a Circle of Anna Pavlova Devotees, Auntie Rita Was a Star

THIS IS A STORY about the last month or so in the life of an Englishwoman who died recently at the age of 92. It has nothing to do with the Southern California scene, but it is so upbeat that I think its appeal may be universal.

The story is told in a letter from an English friend, Kay Donovan, to Sue Schafrath of Santa Monica, about Donovan’s great-aunt, Auntie Rita Samson.

“She was 92 on her last birthday,” Kay Donovan wrote, “so she had a good, long life, and the last month was a very exciting one for her.”

(Kay and Sue were best friends in Purley, Surrey, until 1976, when they were 14 and Sue’s family moved to California.)

Auntie Rita lived in Exeter, Devon, and she had seen a notice in the Exeter Express and Echo asking any persons who remembered anything about the celebrated Russian ballerina, Anna Pavlova, who died in 1931 at the age of 46, to write in, even if they had only seen her dance.

The author of the best letter about Pavlova would receive two tickets to “A Portrait of Anna Pavlova,” to be danced by Ballet Creations at the nearby Teignmouth Carlton Theatre.

Auntie Rita had not only seen Pavlova dance, but as a young ballerina, Auntie Rita had actually danced with her. She wrote a letter about their experiences, describing the clothes Pavlova wore and the places they had danced. (Pavlova had come out of St. Petersburg (Leningrad) to conquer the capitals of Western Europe.)

The judges were incredulous. None of them had expected to hear from anyone who even knew the famous dancer personally, much less danced with her. Auntie Rita’s letter was judged the best.

“They were so interested that they wanted to meet her, so Richard Slaughter and his wife, Ursula Hageli (former stars of the Royal Ballet), and the company’s ballet master all went to Auntie Rita’s house. The newspapers went and took pictures. She made the headlines. Showed them her scrapbook and the bits and pieces she could find relating to Pavlova. . . . They were only going to stay for a short time, but they stayed for hours in the end.”

They invited her to the ballet, but Auntie Rita declined, saying she was afraid to get in and out of cars for fear of breaking something. So they hired an ambulance to take her there. They put her and five of her friends in six choice seats.

“And at the end of the performance, Slaughter, still in his dance gear, made an announcement that they had someone very special in the audience, and all the spotlights went on Auntie.”

Auntie Rita was presented with a great bouquet. Slaughter went down to sit on the floor beside her. People queued up to meet her. The press took more pictures.

She was asked to conduct a master’s class, which she declined. So they asked Auntie Rita just to sit in and advise on Pavlova’s style.

Evidently the archives on Pavlova were thin. “Auntie was amazed at the things they didn’t know.” The only remaining film of Pavlova at work was damaged and of little use. She told them that Pavlova had come on backwards as the dying swan, instead of forwards as they were doing it. Then Pavlova would turn around to show a large bloodstain on her dress.

“So, she made stardom at the end of her life, and for her nothing could have been better than the last month of her life. On her birthday, her living room was absolutely full of flowers. They ran out of vases, bottles, everything to put them in.

“By the sound of what she said to people, she was ready to die and was happy; she’d done all she had wanted to, led an interesting life and had really gone full circle back to her dancing days, the love of her life.”

Auntie Rita lived alone in Exeter with her poodle. Donovan’s parents have moved all her things to their house in Purley. Donovan notes that the top floors of the house are so “absolutely packed” with Auntie Rita’s furniture and belongings that she expects it will take years to sort out.

“So my Wednesdays with Mum from now on, I think, will be spent sorting and organizing family photos and letters and dancing books and music and old ‘20s dresses.

“Sorry to tell you bad news, but as I say, she was 92.”